Liberation
by tomfoolerykitten
Summary: Ten years into Harry's marriage and it's already old hat. With no obvious way out without hurting Ginny, he finds himself thrust into the cunning arms of the unlikely Draco Malfoy. Perhaps he could be the one to liberate him. H/D slash!
1. The Mission

**Disclaimer:** I do not or never will own Harry Potter or any of the other characters you might find in this little wonder. It's all JK's and I'll kindly leave the real stuff to her. ^_^

This is obviously meant to be a longer fic. I started it out intending it to be a one shot but silly me, I just can't contain myself in 1,000 words or less. So, excuse me if it gets crack toward the end. (teehee... i couldn't stand the build up anymore...)

**Liberation**

When the lights went out, Harry rolled over to face the wall. Tonight wasn't a night to satisfy Ginny. At least it was lucky she was too tired to even cuddle tonight. Flying with the Harpees was beginning to become a strain. Emotionally and physically between her and Harry. To be completely honest, Harry took it as a blessing. Between his work as an auror and hers in Quidditch, they barely had any time to spend together, let alone with their kids. When Ginny had suggested she retire from the Harpees, Harry restrained his disappointment. And it wasn't because he thought she was too good a player for the team to lose. In fact, he was afraid of her finding out who he was.

Harry had undoubtedly changed within his ten years of marriage. Their children he saw as a triple blessing. But they had been products of a love and era that had long passed, whether Ginny was aware of it or not.

Only Ron and Hermione knew of his deepest secrets. Quite frankly, Hermione, although sympathetic, was appalled. If he was no longer happy with Ginny, he should at least have the common decency to_ try_ to communicate with her, not shut her out in favour of someone else.

In fact, that previous comment concerning Harry's work was a lie. In truth, when all this mess happened, he'd been demoted to a simple desk job. He'd been slacking off and neglecting his case missions. And for what? Well… You'll barely believe me when I tell you.

Draco Malfoy.

That's right. Draco Malfoy had been his downfall. But no more did he cause Harry's downfall than he gave him liberation. Harry had once upon a time been assigned a case defending Malfoy from his father, freshly escaped from Azkaban. Of course, there was little motivation for Lucius Malfoy now that his Dark Lord was long gone. He still had some semblance of hope coming home to a family in the very least. What he did come home to were two blood traitors, including a son who had quite deliberately divorced his pureblood wife after the briefest of marriages.

Harry had received the memo that said Draco Malfoy was in need of a body guard of sorts. He'd initially considered handing it off to another auror on more neutral terms with the man. A last minute impulsive decision had him take it on instead, in hopes of mending a relationship that had long been broken by the decisions made by the sorting hat seventeen years ago. Had Harry chosen Malfoy over Ron the day of the sorting ceremony, this rivalry would hardly have existed. Perhaps they'd be on much better terms with one another.

The day he started his mission was the day he was going to test this theory; change what could not be undone.

Harry apparated to a secluded alleyway near to what appeared to be a muggle apartment complex where he would find Malfoy's address. Surprised beyond belief that Malfoy of all people would choose to live in a muggle neighbourhood, he hesitated before ascending the wrought iron staircase toward number seven. He considered briefly that this might be a trap- that Draco Malfoy would rather get trampled to death by a stampede of angry hyppogriffs before he be caught living as a money starved muggle. He mulled this theory over for some time before making up his mind with a bemused shrug. It couldn't be that bad, whatever the ferret might be plotting.

He knocked.

Beyond the door, a man with silvery blond hair and sharp, thin, slightly predatory facial features peaked through the peep hole of the thick front door. With a pitiful sneer, he reached for the various chain locks on the door with an enthusiastic tug in order to greet his visitor.

"Potter," he addressed the man with deeply disheveled jet black hair looking more than a little lost, standing on his doorstep. Harry Potter pushed his rounded spectacles further up the bridge of his nose.

"Malfoy," Harry sniffed, attempting to keep the closest form of professionalism in his voice. "I hear Death Eaters are after you?"

"No, not in the slightest, Potter," Malfoy muttered in a bored fashion, leaning lazily against the door jamb. "Just my father, I'm afraid. He wouldn't be capable of summoning any of the Dark Lord's old supporters to aid him; they're either dead, brain dead in Azkaban or far from trusting Lucius as a competent leader. I'd go as far as to say you're wasting your time, Potter."

"I think I can make that judgment for myself, thanks, Malfoy," Harry scowled distastefully, having fully expected this sort of snarky comment from the blond. Of all the nerve. "After all, you_ were_ the one who sent me over here, you know."

"I don't think you understand my situation, Potter," Malfoy sneered, running long, elegant fingers through his hair, causing gleams of light to cascade, gold from his aristocratic silvery locks. "You see, I didn't request your service for protection. I think you'll find I need you for quite a different reason," he smirked as he said it, running his free hand sensuously up and down the doorjamb.

Harry gulped at this, hoping Malfoy didn't mean what he thought he meant, although Malfoy's somewhat provocative position in the doorway told a different story. His mouth went dry and he licked his lips as he watched Malfoy gazing at him as if he were a succulent dessert he just _had_ to get his hands on. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry wondered what kind of sick joke Malfoy was trying to pull here. Whatever it was, wasn't funny. At all.

"Oh Potter," the silver tongued former Slytherin prince purred, slithering an arm up and around Harry's neck to pull him toward him into his home. "You have no idea how long I have yearned for this very moment." He closed the door, slamming Harry up against it.

Harry's head hit wood and it occurred to him that perhaps now would be the time to draw his wand. "I… um…" Harry fumbled helplessly. "You do realize I'm married, don't you?" he begged as Malfoy's hands departed from his neck to more inventive places. His breathing hitched as those slender hands roamed.

"Does it look like I'd care about something as trivial as that?" Malfoy smirked, raising an emmaculate brow. "All I want is you for as long as I pay for and the Weaslette will never have to know."

Harry's lips quivered. "But… I _love_ Ginny!" he exclaimed, more weakly than he intended.

Malfoy forced a laugh. "Don't fool yourself, Potter. Not even you believe that any more. You just need…" he trailed off as his clawlike hands clamped forcedly onto Harry's increasingly tensing crotch. Harry let out a yelp of surprise, both at the deft gesture and the blood beginning to pool low in his groin. He bucked.

"…release."


	2. The Release

Warnings: relatively explicit man on man sex... if you don't like it, what the hell are you doing here hmm? get the frick out! ;)

"I… I…" Harry spluttered, unable to form any coherent thought. What Malfoy was doing here, what _they_ were doing here, was wrong. He couldn't breathe. If he let Malfoy have his way with him, he'd be admitting defeat. He'd be admitting the fact that his marriage was a failure. That he was giving up. He couldn't.

But…

Malfoy did have a point. It wasn't like Ginny would find out. And anyway, Harry was only doing his job. He was _paid_ for. He cringed inwardly at this thought. What was the world coming to? Where Draco Malfoy would pay him for sexual favours? When the hell had this come to light?

"You don't have to say a word," Malfoy soothed, pressing a hand to Harry's protesting mouth as he began to squirm under the blond's touch. "I have _plans_ for you. Plans I've only dreamt of for _years_. Will you take me, Potter?"

Harry swallowed thickly, trying desperately to decipher this double entendre through the haze of his mind. "T-take you _how_?" he choked, feeling foolish and virginal and oh so like a child- an unknowing naïve child.

"However. You. Like," Malfoy replied, his fingers trailing their way across Harry's body. "I can give you some starting points," he purred, leaning ever closer to Harry. Too close for comfort in fact. No. Comfort wasn't an issue. It was the fact that he _wanted_ it that was an issue. He _wanted_ to feel Malfoy there, his hands tugging unabashedly at his prick through his jeans. Because god knew Ginny hadn't pleasured him like that in… well… more than a year, if he thought about it. And even when she had, he hadn't felt… well, _satisfied_. He chalked it up to being too tired for sex. What with work and then the kids…

James would be off to Hogwarts in a year. The house would be quieter. One less reason to linger in a dead end marriage. He could honestly admit to himself he only stayed for the children. James. Albus. Lily. He loved them. And thought they ought to have their father around. So what he was doing with Malfoy was wro…

_So_ fucking good.

He let a moan slide from his lips unbidden as Malfoy pressed himself flush against him. He was so close, all his aristocratic features were a blur, swirling into one another. But there was a nose- he could feel the tip nuzzled gently into the contours between his own and what gave way to his cheek. There was a breath, slow and warm and smelling of strong coffee laced with dark chocolate, possibly expensive and possibly Belgian if he knew Malfoy's tastes.

"You like that, do you Potter?" he inquired, his breath ghosting against Harry's ear. He heaved a bodily shudder at the sensation. Malfoy's arm had come up once more to wrap around his neck. Very intimate and very romantic. All the same, Harry ached for that hand to return to his crotch. He let out a low whine at the loss of contact, but that could be easily remedied as Malfoy pulled his face back to brandish scheming smirk.

His other hand snaked down behind him to grip firmly at Harry's backside. Harry let out a yelp at the new contact but soon found himself closer to Malfoy than ever. And there was friction…

Oh god…

"What do you say we get you out of these clothes, eh, Potter?" Malfoy sneered, nipping absently at his neck. Harry groaned in reply, his mind now too hazed to even respond to verbal questioning. All he knew was that he didn't want this to end. "Bed it is, Potter. Come along."

"No," Harry's voice was moaning, his head thrown back to expose his neck. "No. Here. Now."

This very plea had such a spectacular effect on Malfoy's body as he felt an undeniable, painful, restricting straining stiffness down low. He let out a responding moan. "My my," he choked out between gasping thrusts. "Desperate, are we?"

"Hmm…" Harry sighed as that glorious rub continued. "God. Just… fuck me."

Malfoy let out a strained guffaw at this. "Down on your knees, Potter." His demand was rough and insistent with a quirk of an eyebrow that meant business.

Harry spluttered but did as he was told, slipping down onto the floor before him. He gazed up at Malfoy imploringly, the man looking far taller from above him at this angle. The blond leered, reaching down to grip Harry's hands and aggressively placed them upon his belt buckle. "Undo me, Potter. Undo _all_ of me."

Harry's throat closed up as he fumbled with Malfoy's belt loop. His thumbs ached as the metal cut into him, seemingly unwilling to cooperate. Malfoy rolled his eyes, whipping his wand out of his pocket. With a flick, the belt slid away, freeing Harry to unbutton Malfoy's form hugging brown pleated trousers. Harry sat back on the balls of his feet, mouth agape.

Malfoy sighed. "Do I have to do everything myself?" His hands found Harry's again and a tingling rush swept over the brunet in one fell blow. His head was spinning. Malfoy pressed Harry's hands in his to the button that would release him. Again, Harry fumbled. But this time, the catch fell away and down came the zipper at will. His breath caught as he found his hands press against either side of Malfoy's slender hips, slipping the restricting fabric down and away, to pool around his ankles.

A round of slow, sarcastic applause rang out somewhere above him. Malfoy languidly stepped away from his fallen trousers and pulled Harry up with him. He caught the man by the collar and his lips followed, crashing down hard on that gaping mouth. Harry, too shocked to comprehend what was happening to him, remained utterly passive throughout the kiss until Malfoy's tongue darted out to taste him. Teeth followed and he was biting, clamping down on Harry's bottom lip, demanding reciprocation.

Harry responded with a start, finally finding courage to return the searing kiss. Malfoy's hands worked expertly on divesting Harry of his shirt, tearing where they had to. The rush of air around his naked torso told him it was unfair that he not have the sanctity of warmth of Malfoy's equally naked chest. With less expert hands, he boldly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it away in order to press himself once more flush against Malfoy.

Malfoy's mouth wandered as Harry moaned, losing his inhibitions and self control. This. This was what he had been begging for for years. The passion… The intensity… the… _oh god_!

Somehow, amongst the distraction of kisses, Malfoy's skilled hands had divested him of his jeans and he was tugging unabashedly but methodically at his now very naked and exposed prick. Harry gasped, bucking against those perfect hands.

Time seemed to become none existent after that. Hands roamed every which way. Through mussed hair, across long lean muscle, squeezing those unmentionable places that oh god damn it _so_ needed to be squeezed…

Harry cried out when Malfoy's long fingers breeched him. Malfoy took no notice as he pumped, ever a sneer on his face. Like he knew what he was doing. In the back of his mind, Harry considered how obvious it was now why Malfoy would divorce so soon after his marriage. He obviously had experience in this department. A thrill of envy rushed through him at the very thought of Malfoy being with other men. Doing_ this_ with other men.

Nothing prepared him for the fullness of his waiting and open channel as Malfoy finally settled himself inside him. He felt those lips press themselves against the crook of his neck before he pulled out almost completely and slammed hard back against Harry's hips. And so it went.

They lay there, sometime afterward, spent and replete, unable to comprehend everything they had just experienced. Together. Malfoy's head dropped against Harry's chest, equal parts soaked with sweat as one another. Harry liked the way that white blond hair, now darkened and sticky with sweat felt there, pressed against him. He ran his fingers through it, marveling at what he'd been missing for the past ten years.

"Why?" was his first question when he finally caught his breath. "Why now?"

Malfoy took his time to mull over his answer. He pursed his lips, drawing languid circles against Harry's collar bone with the tip of his finger. "Hmm… because after the war, it seemed life was too short not to live a little. To have what I wanted. My family wanted something of me that I didn't want for myself. So I vowed that I would do away with all that. Here, my mother has gone away to travel and my father is after my neck. I finally have the chance to do whatever the fuck I want. And funnily enough, it's you."

"For how long?"

"For as long as you'll have me." There was a tone in Malfoy's voice that seemed to do away with all the past rivalries and snarky comments and fist fights and duels… Here, there was compassion in his voice. There was a soft clarity to it that made Harry's chest heave. Maybe Malfoy_ had_ changed.

"Same time tomorrow then?" Harry smirked, a feeling deep in his chest he had not experience since his Hogwarts glory days.

"Sounds perfect."

**A/N:** I just wanna say thanks so much to all the followers! I'm oh so new at this so the support is veddy exciting and yay! you guys rock! But you know what? You guys would rock even more if you do some R&R and I'm not talking rest and relaxation... although that sounds like an excellent idea and i'd recommend that too. ;)


	3. The Signs

**A/N: Sorry guys, minimal Drarry goodness in here. But plot developments... yay! And please, guys. Do take your time to review. I do like to know what you think and whether it's worth continuing because I certainly would like to think it is. :):)**

"Why are _you _so happy?"

Harry blinked, swallowing down any smugness that might slip over the edge of his carefully constructed walls. "Just… a good day at work is all," he managed, scratching the back of his head. He was surprised Ginny had even bothered to notice, so often concerned was she about preparing for weeks of training for the domestic league matches.

"Enough to get you singing Celestina Warbeck in the shower?" she inquired skeptically with a raise of her brows. She leaned against the marble counter of their kitchen, mug of hot morning coffee in her right hand raised toward her lips. Harry's cheeks had the gall to blush. "You haven't had one of _those_ days in months."

" I guess things are just looking up, is all," he shrugged his way through his mounting guilt. He cleared his throat, shaking open the day's Daily Prophet to conceal his face, if anything else.

"Well, all your hard work must finally have pulled through," Ginny smiled thoughtfully, putting down her mug. "Since you're in such a good mood, I was wondering…"

Harry's stomach plummeted. _Since you're in such a good mood_ was always an ominous sign from Ginny. It often meant she wanted him to pick up the kids from school or attend Lily's ballet performance this weekend or something equally as irksome that Ginny_ knew_ Harry disliked.

"If maybe we could do something tonight. Together. Just the two of us. No work, no kids. Just us. What do you think?" Ginny's hands were on his shoulders, preparing to slide comfortably around his neck. Her long, red hair fell over her shoulder and tickled his ear in her closeness.

He squeezed his eyes shut, cursing the timing of his newly found trysts. Leave it to Malfoy to waltz his smug way into his life the very moment Ginny _finally_ wants to work things out. Perhaps Ginny never found anything wrong between them at all. Maybe she didn't feel the strain like Harry had. Maybe she really _was_ too busy to notice.

"I… might be working late tonight," he swallowed, hating himself for the lies and hating himself even more for betraying Ginny like this. "But this weekend, maybe, Gin."

~.~.~.~.~

_This isn't going to work_.

The words were on his lips. On the tip of his tongue. But his vocal chords refused to let them come. He wanted to say it the minute he set foot in the Malfoy Manor. He wanted to say it the minute Malfoy devoured him in a searing kiss that accompanied the sneering "dear god, I didn't think I'd actually miss you, Potter" that breathed against his ear. He wanted to say it the minute Malfoy led him to his bed.

But it never came.

Harry wondered what he was doing here, as he lay there, spent beneath Malfoy's possessive, subdued hands. Why had he been so stupid? Was_ continuing_ to be so stupid? He couldn't do this to Ginny… to his _family_. How completely and utterly selfish all of this was. If it took Malfoy to make him feel whole again, there was something wrong with him. Psychologically, psychically… whatever it was, it had to be staunched.

They didn't talk. It was something Harry feared trying with Malfoy. With their history and Malfoy's quick temper… he didn't think he'd be capable of getting a word in edgewise. Besides, words would never keep them from their actions. Words would be left ignored, half said as the heat of physical contact built around them. It was something Harry had never felt with Ginny, even when he _had_ been in love with her. Malfoy's touch set a fire alight within him that just couldn't be extinguished. Even without words, he seemed to _know_ what Harry needed.

Later, when his head was cleared and he had apparated miles away from the Manor, he'd ponder how utterly ironic that was. He was being _paid _to satisfy himself. Sexually. With Malfoy. He wondered what Kingsley would think if he found out what the bodyguard work truly entailed. It wasn't like he went in _knowing _what Malfoy was asking of him.

He couldn't keep coming to Malfoy like this. At least not when Malfoy's money was keeping Harry under his thumb. But… the pretext was just too good to resist. It gave him an excuse to be away from the house at all hours of the day and perhaps at night too if Malfoy demanded it of him. Ginny knew how committed he was to his work… and with Malfoy's money, that's all it was: work.

~.~.~.~.~

"You smell different," Ginny noted Friday night before dinner as they entered the restaurant, out of the cool night air.

"Really?" Harry wondered, throat closing up like it often did these days when Ginny walked into the room. Or opened her mouth. Or touched him. "Different how?"

"I don't know," she replied, perplexed. "You're not wearing cologne, are you? 'Cause you never wear cologne."

Harry ran his hand through his hair, creating ruffles in the back where he had spent twenty minutes getting it to lie flat. "Well… you know. I thought… special occasion, right? Why not… try something new?"

_Like Draco Malfoy_.

He cursed his conscience for getting in the way.

~.~.~.~.~

_I'm gay._

The words sat there, stagnant in his mind, gradually stirring and awakening within him until finally screaming and bashing themselves against those carefully constructed walls of his mind as Ginny's hands lingered over him later that night as they prepared for bed. Ordinarily, it was either too late or one of them had already fallen asleep by the time the moment of undress came around.

For some reason, this didn't shock Harry the way it should have. The intimate moments he had spent with Malfoy in the past week were far more passionate and roused emotions within him the way ten years of intimacy with Ginny had never done. Maybe that was all he needed to accept himself- to help him move on in his life.

He could have turned away. He could have said no. He could have punched Malfoy in the jaw for even suggesting he turn on his wife. But he hadn't. He hadn't done any of those things. Which meant this wasn't a fluke. He truly did have feelings for Draco Malfoy. Feelings that had him coming back for more.

~.~.~.~.~

"I don't need you to pay for me, Malfoy," Harry protested, holding up a hand, palm up to stop him from pulling out a substantial weight of gallions sealed up in a velvet bag.

Malfoy's stormy grey eyes flashed in the afternoon light. "What do you think this is, Potter?" he inquired with a trademark sneer as he bounced the money from one hand to another. Somewhere within Harry, those words stung. "If I don't pay you, how am I to know you'll ever come back?"

"You just have to trust me."

Malfoy had the gall to laugh. "Trust you, Potter? That's funny. Very funny."

"Well what did you expect?" Harry breathed, incapable of speaking any louder or surer what with the sensation of being internally squeezed by invisible hands. "It's been a month. I'm not… Not your _whore_."

"And what _would _you be?"

"I…" Harry faltered. And here, he didn't know what he was. What he _wanted _to be. "It's been a month, Malfoy," he repeated instead, hoping this would be enough.

"What are you asking of me, Potter? To move in? Monogamy? What?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh bitterly at the very idea. A monogamous relationship. With Malfoy. "I'm married."

"Yes. Which means any sort of exclusive relationship with me is quite out of the question."

"I… I'll see you tomorrow, Malfoy," Harry concluded, unwilling to answer these unanswerable questions. He couldn't stay any longer. Not with the look in Malfoy's eyes boring deeply into him. "Keep your money."


	4. The Portrait

**A/N:** Some new Harry/Draco for y'all guys! Yaaay! This might excite me more than it does you, who knows? If by chance I'm wrong, please let me know and *nudge nudge, wink wink* review! :P

As promised, Harry did return to Malfoy the following day, right on time down to the very minute. He didn't know what he was trying to do, impressing him by remembering their previous arrangements to the letter. As if he were a hormonal, libido driven teenager again. And even then, he hadn't been the type to chase after blond, aristocratic Slytherins, mouth half open and drooling.

That was precisely what he was. Call it a midlife crisis or what you will… but he felt reckless. He felt like he needed to take chances before it was too late. Malfoy was right. Life was too short not to experience what he truly wanted out of life. Godrick only knew he'd spent the past ten years living for both Ginny and the kids. He'd never stopped to live for himself.

Throwing all caution to the wind, he stepped into the luxuriously columned foyer of the Malfoy Manor, having been escorted in by Minksy, Malfoy's most recent house elf. A part of him felt irked by the sight of the elf there, after Hermione's rigorous campaigning had given the magical creatures certain liberties. Liberties being the ability to work for wages. He wondered if Minksy was being paid, treated properly. If ever Minksy had the decency to let him out after his and Malfoy's daily romps, he made certain to slip her a sickle at the very least. Even if she had no intention of using it.

Another part of him sympathized with Minksy in an agonizing sort of way. There they both were, manhandled by their masters. Being forced to do what they were told against their better judgment. And most of the time, they were blissfully unaware of it.

"Minksy is afraid Master Draco is out and Minksy cannot let Master Potter in. Master Potter can wait until Master Draco is coming back," the little house elf squeaked, all bundled up in her tea cozy, slightly smudged with dust and dirt, her ears long and flapping as she emphasized her orders with practically ever inch of her body like a little interpreted dance.

"That would be fine, Minksy. I'll wait here," he replied genially and Minksy led him into the sitting room with a sweeping bow.

In the time Harry had to wait, he took the opportunity to inspect the Manor's interior in detail. There were portraits lining the walls of all manner of relatives from centuries down the line to present day, all who watched him with judging eyes and whispered to one another about him watching them. No doubt they had an opinion about their successor's conduct with the one and only Saviour of the Wizarding World, the very man who had defeated their Dark Lord.

Trinkets laid across the marble mantle, above a glimmering fire place, which Minksy had let roar to live, flames licking away inside. Authentic gold watches, brooches, jewelry, was put on display for all to see precisely how rich the Malfoys truly were. That was before considering the many busts and statues littered about the house in meaningful and artistic places.

A portrait of Draco himself sneered down at him from above the mantle. Harry peered up at his lover's boyish likeness, nearly twenty years younger. There was a sort of contempt in the boy Malfoy's gaze that made Harry wonder. "Hello, Draco," he mumbled softly in greeting. Experimentally. If he couldn't have one Draco, why not settle for another?

The young Draco glanced down his nose at him, his lips thinning at this address. "I offered you friendship, Potter," he sneered down at him, barely looking him in the eye. "I offered you loyalty and you refused. _No one_ refuses a Malfoy. _Father_ told me that."

Harry frowned, biting his lip. True, Malfoy _had_ offered him friendship. He _had_ offered him loyalty. And he_ had_ refused. But at a time when he was young and naïve and didn't know any better. Looking back, he had no regrets in his decision. Had he taken Malfoy up on his offer back when they were eleven, in Madam Malkin's shop, he may not have defeated Voldemort as he had. And where would he be now? "Yes. But I'm not refusing you now. In fact, I'm accepting you. More than I ever have in my life."

"I've been waiting for your acceptance for _years_, Potter," the painting droned on, rejecting Harry's words. "I watched myself for seventeen years fighting for your acceptance. And the one time you finally come through for us, is when you're forced."

"N-no. I… Malfoy…"

Harry was puzzled. This was all so confusing. He squeezed his eyes shut tied then gradually let his eyelids fall open once more. "I can't explain it, but I… ever since that day, I've been drawn here. I _want_ to be here, Malfoy. More than you can imagine. Because somehow, you make me whole."

"_Do I_, Potter?" came a familiar drawling voice from behind him. Harry froze, barely breathing. He didn't dare turn around. His cheeks flared, he could feel them burn as he held his face in his hands.

"Malfoy, I can explain," he tried, his voice weak and cracking under the humiliation of being caught talking to the portrait version of his lover.

"You so desperate to have a conversation with me but too afraid to have it _with_ me? Is _that_ it, Potter?"

"N-no. I…" Harry struggled for words as his throat closed up. "You weren't here and I thought I'd wait for you and then I came in here and that was there and you…" A thought suddenly struck him. "You've been waiting for me. You've been waiting for me _forever_."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Since we met, yes, Potter." He barely flinched amongst this deep admission. He even looked Harry in the eye as he said it. His breathing came slow and rhythmic. Harry found something oddly soothing about watching that rise and fall of his chest beneath Ministry robes.

"Since we met," Harry repeated those words, testing it on his lips. It felt so odd, placing them there. He pressed his fingers absently toward his mouth, as if tracing those words across them, trying to hold them in place and keep them his. He blinked. "But _why_?"

"God, Potter. You really _are_ that thick, aren't you?" Malfoy leered, pressing a hand to his waist in impatience. With his other hand, he reach up to run his fingers through his otherwise immaculate blond hair. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

Harry spluttered for a response. Apparently he _did_ have to spell it out, considering he had not a single clue what Malfoy was going on about. He fixed his gaze on Malfoy, waiting for an explanation. But by the look on the aristocratic blond's face, he had no intention of giving one. In fact, he looked equally as perplexed as Harry felt. There was an agony there, in his deep grey eyes that said he wanted to give it, if only his mouth would comply.

Malfoy scowled. "_Don't_ make me say it, Potter," he murmured finally.

"Don't make you say _what_?"

"That he's in love with you," chimed the eleven year old Draco's voice from behind him in an almost playground teasing way, causing Harry to spin 'round so fast, he saw stars. "That _we're _in love with you."


	5. The Request

**A/N: So, two updates in one day... I wouldn't ordinarily, but considering I have a busy day today and wasn't sure whether I'd have time, I submitted The Portrait early this morning. Looks like I had more time than i thought... more for you then. ;) **

**And quick note to reviewer:**

**Jo: I take that as a good thing, yes? Up until this point, i hadn't considered the press. But you are absolutely right, I think something big will have to happen to snap Harry out of it. As it is, I think he's in the middle of a crisis and needs to sort his way through. Poor guy. :( Not that that excuses his behaviour of course, although we love it. ;)**

"Draco…" Harry breathed, unable to comprehend this admission. Malfoy shrunk away, taking a step away from him. All this time, Harry had thought this was some sort of game to him. That Malfoy would have him in his bed and be done with it until the following day. Now… now this made things so much more complicated.

"You don't have to say anything," the blond winced, squeezing his eyes shut. "I don't_ want_ you to say anything."

Harry caught his breath, reaching for the first soft place he could fall into. He found himself gripping the polished wooden arm of the Victorian chaise-lounge until his knuckles were white. The room was spinning.

"Potter," Malfoy's voice rang out before him. He sounded distant. "You don't have to stay for my benefit. I don't want to be your charity case. You're wife…"

Harry didn't want to hear any more. Because if he said anything further, it would make all of this real. And he didn't want it to be real. The affair… the confessions of love… the entrapment… Harry was living in a lie, and he was happy to remain in ignorance. He knew nothing of Draco's life aside from what they had and he couldn't want anything different. Not right now.

"Please," he begged, blindly raising himself up off his seat and toward Malfoy. "Just… stop." His arms and legs seemed to move of their own accord and suddenly, he was wrapped around Draco so fast and so tight, he lost himself. His breathing came ragged between sloppy kisses to keep Malfoy quiet. Teeth clattered and noses bumped as Harry thrust his tongue into Malfoy's mouth, desperate to taste him in all his aristocratic splendor.

He could feel Malfoy's hands gripping him with a vehement desperation he would have never expected back in Hogwarts, slipping up underneath his shirt, across his spine, causing a ripple of shivers to burst through him. He wanted to drown himself in this man, to forget everything he'd been told. To forget Ginny. To forget himself.

For all their clinging and flocks of haphazard kisses, they somehow managed to divest themselves of clothes. Pushing Malfoy forcedly down upon the chaise, Harry lost all sense of coherent thought, forgoing what was right for what was instinctive. Inexperienced fingers sought places, corners of Malfoy, folded up and tucked away, too intimate for Harry to fathom until now. He didn't care for Draco's permission, even if he gave it gladly, parting his legs and tangling them around Harry as he worked to open him.

Draco moaned audibly as he felt Harry push into him, welcoming the newfound fullness with a passion that would surely tear him apart. "Harry," he sucked in a breath and bucked against him. "Don't know what you feel, but… _god_… I…" he trailed off briefly with an incoherent groan as Harry's lips found the pulse point at his throat. "Don't care."

Harry expressed his acknowledgement by sealing Draco's babbling mouth with a searing kiss. "No talk." He moaned, his face set in wanton abandon. "Just us. Just this."

~.~.~.~.~

He didn't want to face Ginny. Not after everything that had happened that day. Not after everything he'd been told. It was all escalating into something that was too much. Like the affair had a mind of its own and Harry. Couldn't. Stop.

He couldn't get the scent of Malfoy off his skin. Nor did he want to. But he had to. For Ginny's sake. For his family's sake. He held off showering another hour, unwilling to depart from Draco's lingering presence. He needed to be reminded of what he had done. And a tiny part of him, a guilty part, wanted to get caught. Because Merlin knew he didn't have the courage to do it himself. To be held accountable for his actions. He needed something that would do it for him.

Swallowing his pride, he picked up the kids from school to abate his guilt. Lily cast him a wary glance, flinching away when he tried to hold her close. Albus remained unusually silent, lips pursed and hands pulled behind his back.

"Where's Mum?" James inquired expectantly, arms crossed. "_She_ usually picks us up."

Harry hated the bite of accusation in his son's voice. "She's training late tonight," he muttered before quietly ushering them to the apparition point and took them home.

~.~.~.~.~

Ginny's hands sought him out that night in bed. Harry rolled over, feigning sleep. He wished things didn't have to be so complicated. He knew he shouldn't be deliberately avoiding her. She was a smart woman. She would find out. He couldn't afford to act so suspiciously. After all, she had been sweet. She had been patient. She had been unassuming. She asked no questions, even when he smelled a little too much like Draco or forgot to do a mundane task like washing the dishes, (which he ordinarily did when Ginny cooked).

She didn't deserve this.

~.~.~.~.~

The following morning, a Ministry owl arrived with the ordinary post. Harry frowned, taking up the envelope in his hand, making certain to offer the bird a treat before retreating back out the window and streaked across the early morning sky.

He turned the letter over in his hand and sucked in a breath when he recognized the Malfoy family seal. His gaze darted briefly to Ginny, who's back was turned as she tended to the coffee. With shaking hands, he opened the envelope. There, in crisp deliberate calligraphy was Draco Malfoy's handwriting. His heart pounded up in his throat as he sat down to read.

_Potter-_

_ I apologise for the abrupt notice, but I'm afraid I can no longer engage you in our usual affairs. I follow a harrowing schedule this month, which cannot be rearranged for any reason. Do not attempt to call on me unless I request otherwise._

_My sincerest of apologies,_

_DM_

He blinked. The formalities of the letter made his heart plummet, squeezing at his insides like a vice. As if everything they had meant nothing. Was this about the previous day? Had he gone too far? Was Malfoy ashamed of what he had confessed?

"Are you working with Malfoy or something?" Ginny inquired from across the table, Malfoy's envelope caught between her fingers. His heart stopped.

"I-in a sense," he fumbled, folding up the letter and shoving it into his robes before Ginny could catch sight of it.

Ginny offered him a thoughtful gaze. "You know, ever since you appealed for him and his family before the Wizengamot, you'd expect the old rivalry to die down. Bury the hatchet so to speak. I hope you're on good terms."

Harry swallowed. "Yeah. Just fine." He scratched his head. "Er… his father wasn't happy with him after he escaped from Azkaban. Blood traitor and all that since the divorce. He just… needs a little protection. But… seems like he has other plans this month. Doesn't need me. Won't be seeing him again, I suspect." He forced a weak smile.

Ginny passed him a bemused glance. "That's what aurors are for, I guess," she shrugged, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. "So does this mean you'll be around more? I could really use your help around the house. I realize you haven't been all here these days. But if Malfoy's bugging you, just ignore the git, right?"

"Right."

~.~.~.~.~

"Harry, might I have a word?" Kingsley Shacklebolt inquired upon Harry's arrival at the auror department an hour later. Harry furrowed his brow.

"Of course, sir."

Kingsley closed Harry's office door behind him. "It has come to my attention, Harry, that you have been increasingly absent in the past weeks. You do realize we require some sort of notice well in advance if you intend on taking time off, do you not?"

"I… yes, sir. Of course sir," Harry spluttered, confused as to the direction of their conversation. "I… I'm just confused as to why we're discussing this sir, when I have been put on the Malfoy case. I've been warding Draco Malfoy against his father, as requested."

"Perhaps you were, Harry. But my records show that Malfoy cancelled his plea well over a month ago. We expected you back in the department weeks ago."

"I… I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid I wasn't aware of this arrangement," Harry murmured, surprised at Malfoy's actions. Yes, he had told Malfoy to stop paying for him, but not to withdraw his case altogether! He felt foolish and humiliated, trapped in the middle of this compromising conversation with his boss.

"Why you did not think to show up here at all remains to be seen." Kingsley leaned forward, pressing his full weight on his hand, placed on the edge of Harry's desk. He shook his head in regret, the slightest hint of anger in his eyes. "But I'm afraid your lack of attention leaves me no choice but to pull you from field work. I can't have my best aurors slacking, Harry. You know that."

"Yes sir. I understand sir."

"Good." Kingsley straightened, preparing to leave. "It would be in your best interest to see Melinda- she has your paperwork on hand. And Harry… I don't want to see a slip up like this from you again. Anything else like this could cost you your job."


	6. The Commitments

**A/N: So, my pretties... long chapter ahead. :):):) FYI: This is a good thing, as it means I've officially concurred writer's block! hells yes! Anyway, I just wanted to say something about you followers... and that is: holy crap- 20 of you! 2-0. wow. I'm honoured that you actually like me that much. i must be doing something right. But how would i know if i don't get my reviews, huh? I don't know what you like... and if there's something i should be doing, let me know, will ya? ;) But thank you guys, the support means so much!  
**

"I heard 'bout your demotion," Ron Weasley murmured around a pasty around lunch, slumping down on the edge of Harry's desk. Harry hung his head low against the desk, wrapping his arms around it. A few blows to the head sounded really heavenly right now. Barely an hour into the workday and everyone knew about his slip in judgement. "Rotten luck, mate."

Harry groaned. "I can't believe I was so stupid," he sighed, raising his head enough to press his fingers against his eyelids to ease the pressure of a building headache.

"Should've known Malfoy would pull something like that. Never trust a ferret." Ron shook his head. "What'd he say to you anyway?"

"Nothing," Harry groaned, pushing the seemingly never ending stack of files away with both hands in front of him. "That's the problem." Perhaps had he and Draco been more open with each other, they would have been able to organize the affair around work instead of… skirting around the issue. Malfoy had his stupid pride. He knew that. Hell- _everyone _knew that. If for whatever reason, someone had to get hurt, he'd twist a situation around so that it would never be him. And here he was, twisting it around, throwing Harry in front of the train.

Their relationship wasn't about opening up. It wasn't about being a _couple_. They weren't justified to act as he did with Ginny or how Malfoy may have briefly with Astoria Greengrass. There was nothing justifiable about their relationship. Harry was cheating and he didn't deserve to be happy with Malfoy. _Really_ happy. What they had was false. It was pure sex and nothing else. And if sex was the only thing Malfoy wanted and only on his watch, then maybe it wasn't worth it after all.

Harry wondered when he started wanting more out of their daily trysts. He hadn't really considered it until that morning, with Malfoy's rejections plain to see in his hands. He'd pulled the letter out from his robes several times within the hour alone. He'd read it over so many times, he could recite it word for word, and hand worried it in his hands so often, the edges were fraying. What exactly did he expect from his old school rival?

All he knew was that when he was with Draco, the weight of the world would be released from his shoulders. He could throw all caution to the wind, safe behind locked doors where no one would know. He had been careful. He either apparated just outside the gates of the Malfoy Manor or flooed straight in. Never for a moment would he let the public get a single glimpse of his scandalous secret life. Merlin only knew what would happen if Ginny found out.

Now she wasn't going to. As far as Malfoy was concerned, their affair was apparently over and Harry would have to return to his mundane life. At least this would give him an opportunity to bond with his kids. The way they blatantly distanced themselves from him when he was home gave him a worrying thought that they knew something was going on. Perhaps they could smell Malfoy on him too, even after vigorous scrubbing in the shower every day. Perhaps he held himself differently after spending time with Malfoy. After all, Malfoy gave him every reason to act on the defensive, even after all these years of cooling. Perhaps he snapped at them more than usual. He didn't know. But they appeared more suspicious of him than Ginny ever was.

Ginny trusted him. She trusted him with her life, just as she had promised in their vows. And he had promised her strength. Love. Faith. Loyalty. A life long friend. All he could hope to salvage out of this was possibly the last. He no longer knew what he felt for her. But whatever it was was nothing short of platonic. He wished it were different. There was a time where he wished he could be better to her; that he could feel precisely what he had felt the minute his eyes locked on her in that white dress, on her father's arm, making that final walk as a free woman. He had honestly believed back then that he could easily spend the rest of his life with her. Somewhere along the way, he'd made a mistake. Something within him had changed. There was no pinpointing when it changed, just that it had, gradual as aging. You don't notice it until it's long happened.

He wished he had known earlier. Not about himself but about Draco. House rivalry got in their way. Being on opposite sides of the war got in their way. Marriage got in their way. Harry had his family expectations to uphold and Malfoy had his. Never once had he questioned it. Some part of him had a feeling Malfoy did, forced into an arranged marriage… and even before that, forced to carry out a deed no ordinary teenage boy could possibly follow through. He had rejected murder out of what for many years, Harry saw as cowardess. He had rejected Astoria Greengrass out of self respect. Harry saw that now. He had done what Harry could not: live for himself. Make _decisions _for himself.

All his life, Harry had been told what to do. He did things out of moral obligation. When he was a child, he did as the Dursleys demanded, for fear of a beating. When he had arrived at Hogwarts, he did as Dumbledore demanded, for fear of letting not only the headmaster down, but the wizarding world as well. When the war came around, he did as the wizarding world demanded, for fear of letting Voldemort win. And when all that was over and done with, he did what Ginny and the Weasleys expected of him. For fear of disappointment. And here Malfoy was, rejecting all that was… well… normal. And Harry respected that. No… he _admired _that. He only wished Draco could have come to him sooner.

~.~.~.~.~

"We'll have to go to Diagon Alley," Ginny noted absently one day when she thought Harry was listening. "I'm in need of some new flying equipment and James will need school robes."

Harry laid down that morning's Daily Prophet to pass her a skeptical look. "James won't be leaving for Howarts until September. He'll grow at least another inch before then. Can't we just wait until his letter arrives?"

"Harry," she addressed him sharply, sending him an unsettling glare. "You _know _how busy we get toward September. I barely have time to pick up the children from school as it is. And Merlin knows you're rarely ever around anymore!"

"I… have been working," his retort came weak and guilty, tasting of rust in his mouth as he lied.

"Of course," Ginny nodded curtly, pursing her lips in an accusatory manner. "What the hell is wrong with you? You're hardly in your right mind when I see you. You hardly say a word to me and now you're neglecting our children? Tell me, Harry. Tell me right now what has gotten into you these days? And you'd better have a good excuse because I'm not going to put up with any of this anymore."

"I… Ginny…" _I've been sleeping around with Draco Malfoy behind your back._ Of course, he barely had the nerve to admit it. How could he? "It's just the Malfoy case. 'S frustrating. That's all."

"So then reassign him. Talk to Kingsley. Do _something_," Ginny seethed. "I don't want Draco Malfoy coming between you and your children, Harry. I can't let that happen. You're their father and if you choose work over them…"

"I'm not. I mean… I won't let that happen." He shook his head. "We can go down to Diagon Alley Saturday."

"_Fine_."

~.~.~.~.~

The streets were packed on the Saturday afternoon as Lily clung to Ginny's arm while the boys walked a little up ahead, still close enough to keep an eye on. Harry remained at Ginny's side in order to avoid any renewed conflict. He was already in hot water as it was. Step a single toe out of line and he'd be Bat Bogey Hexed straight into tomorrow. God, this was gonna be a _long_ weekend. They stepped into Madam Malkin's first, as it would no doubt take the longest to get James' robes measured.

The bell chimed merrily as they entered to indicate their arrival. Harry glanced around as he stepped through the threshold. The shop hadn't changed since he'd bought his first robes. Still quaint with a manageable amount of dust. With wracks and displays of robes in all shapes and colours. Seventeen years and Madam Malkin was still at it. Seventeen years.

Seventeen years since he had met Draco Malfoy in this very shop. A shiver ran down his spine. He caught sight of Madam Malkin herself, carefully pinning a set of luxuriously coloured emerald robes to fit a little boy with strikingly pale blond hair. Harry blinked, thinking for a moment that he had stepped back in time and there was Draco, in all his snide glory.

But it wasn't Draco. This boy here, although bearing a striking resemblance to him, had nothing of the personality to him. He was quiet and flinched when the pins pricked too close to his skin. He bit his lip, looking anxious, his grey eyes darting this way and that across the shop, as if in search for someone.

As if by magic (well… perhaps it_ was_ by magic after all,) the someone the boy was clearly looking for appeared at his side. An equally blond man approached him, clapping a brief but encouraging hand to the boy's back.

"These will do," came a familiar, proud voice as the man addressed Madam Malkin. "And be certain they're left a little long about the ankles. Scorpius still has yet to grow and I'd like them to_ last_ this time."

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the pair. Malfoy. And a son? He frowned. Draco had not once mentioned a family. Sure, Harry was aware of his ex-wife. But a son? He'd only paid brief attention to the news of Malfoy's marriage and then later to his divorce. In his mind, the two dates had been much closer.

"Potter," Malfoy addressed with a nod, stopping short on his way toward the door, young Scorpius in tow, now divested of the newly tailored and paid for robes. "Fancy meeting you here." He arched a brow as if to say how _unpleasant_ it was to meet him here. As if he would rather be anywhere else _but_ here. "Allow me to introduce you to my son. Scorpius." There was a twitch in his jaw as he said it, coaxing his son forward with a hand to his back. "Scorpius- Harry Potter."

"A-an honour, sir," Scorpius fumbled, flushing in embarrassment as he gradually took Harry's hand to shake. "Father has told me a great deal about you. You… saved us from Azkaban." There was that familiar sense of awe in his voice, his eyes wide in intimidated wonder. "Th-thank you."

"Oh… well…" Harry began, falling short on how to carry on. He cast a lingering glance to Malfoy, whose lips twitched upward in a _wouldn't you like to know_ type smirk. "Was the least I could do." His eyes never left Draco's. He nodded, the smallest jerk of his chin to Malfoy. "Draco," he addressed him, offering his hand.

Malfoy's eyes instantly darted to Ginny, who had wandered off to discuss precisely what she wanted with Madam Malkin across the shop. "Harry," he replied, with the slightest genuine smile, taking the proffered hand. A sense of déjà vu crept over them in that instant. Not the conventional déjà vu, but one that told them what could have been. An alternate reality where Harry had accepted Draco's hand seventeen years ago. "I apologise for my abrupt letter. Scorpius had returned from his mother's- he stays with me every alternating month, you see. I hardly thought it appropriate you coming to see me when Scorpius has tutoring under my watchful eye. Not to mention, it's the only time I get to see him." His hand came to rest on his son's shoulder, squeezing affectionately.

"Oh." Harry scratched his neck, humiliation burning red hot against his cheeks at his blunder. And here he thought he'd done something wrong. That Malfoy'd had regrets. "No- I understand."

"We'll make plans, Potter. I'm hardly finished with you."


	7. The Picnic

**A/N: So, short chapter this time around. But you know what? It's precisely what I needed it to be, nothing more, nothing less. But enough about that. Can I just say: 1,000 hits! I'm a happy kitten today. :):):) And to the reviewers (y'all could learn a thing or two from them... ;) ) : **

**SilverEars: I know, isn't he the sweetest? More adorable Scorpius antics to come! And also- well, about the letter, now you know. ^^ I often forget that I'm the only one who knows the characters' incentives. ha. now we all know.**

** Watermelondrea: yes, Harry's a silly boy, isn't he? It's why we love him, right? :P**

"Father, why is Mr. Potter coming with us?" Scorpius insisted curiously with a slight cock of his head as Draco absently helped him button his cloak. A part of Draco knew his son was getting too old for this- that he could dress all by himself. That he didn't need him _hovering_. But he couldn't help himself. He had on hundred and eighty two days of the year to spend with him. Certainly, a month wasn't long to wait, but after those thirty days, he would begin to get antsy.

Scorpius meant more to him than he had ever anticipated. Eleven years ago, when his father had introduced him to his future wife, all he knew was that he needed a son. That was all he needed from her and would ever need. And she complied readily enough. It didn't take long after the wedding. After the baby was born, he and Astoria went their separate ways, agreeing custody of their son. Astoria didn't want for much. Just that she was certain to see Scorpius on a regular basis. And that didn't seem like a hard bargain at all.

What Draco found difficult was giving him up every month, walking into Astoria's home she shared with her new husband, staying for tea and then turning his back. It became harder and harder as the years went by, the more attached he felt to his son.

It was funny how he felt little to no affection for his wife and yet when Scorpius had been placed in his arms for the first time, he had never felt so much love for any single human being in his life.

Except for Harry Potter.

"Because he means a great deal to me and a great deal to our family," Draco explained, smoothing the front of Scorpius' robes and finally sitting back on his heels to admire his work. His handsome son. A burst of pride welled up within him. Who knew? "It's very important that you and Harry get to know one another. Because I hope to have him around a lot from now on."

Scorpius knitted his silvery, nearly transparent brows. "Is he your friend?"

A small smile crept across Draco's face. It was still stretching. "You could say that. We're very close, Scorpius."

"He must make you happy, then," his son decided, blinking. "I've never seen you smile like that before."

~.~.~.~.~

Harry was perplexed by Malfoy's latest request. He wanted to see him. Outside. In a very public place. In a park, to be exact. A wizarding park, of course, Malfoy would have none of those muggles touching his son. There was another perplexing factor. He was bringing his son. Harry wondered briefly whether he expected James, Albus and Lily to make an appearance. But then again, that hardly made any sense. His children knew nothing of his relationship with Malfoy.

He was wary of this idea. He didn't know what Malfoy was thinking. If he'd lost his mind… They could get caught. Surely, they'd be seen. There wasn't a single person in the bloody wizarding world who didn't know who he was. This was a terrible idea. A horrible, stomach churning idea that would get him into trouble.

But of course, he couldn't deny himself time with Draco Malfoy.

~.~.~.~.~

"Here," Draco murmured, tugging a medallion over his clandestine lover's head. "Keep this on. It'll keep anyone from recognizing you."

"_Woah_," Scorpius blinked, in awe of the magic that took hold. "He looks like Mother!"

"_What_?" Harry gasped, hands flying to his face. Draco laughed easily. He whipped out his wand and pressed it to his son's temple. He mumbled a spell, crisp and clear but too soft for Harry to make out.

Scorpius squinted, hands clapping together. "Now you're Harry Potter again." He peered up at his father beside him, an endearing looking of admiration deep in his Malfoy grey eyes.

"A glamour," Malfoy explained simply. "To anyone else, you'll look like my ex-wife. They'll just think we're out with our son."

"That won't seem suspicious?" Harry inquired, pursing his lips.

"Not at all. Astoria and I occasionally go out together with Scorpius. If he wants." He smirked down at his son who smiled happily in response. "Besides, it's nearing the end of the month and I'll be taking him back to Astoria within a few days anyway."

~.~.~.~.~

There was something oddly comforting, sitting with Malfoy on the blanket they had set out, watching Scorpius take to the skies on his Nimbus 5000. Certainly, he and Ginny had taken their kids out like this. But he'd never felt… never felt a part of it. He never felt like he belonged like he did now. He couldn't help but smile each time Scorpius stopped to glance over his shoulder and grin back at his father and Harry before running off again.

"What d'you think, Potter? Fancy a fly?" Draco challenged, one hand cupped to his brow in order to block out the sun as he kept a close eye on his son. His other hand fell to Harry's and a jolt rocked through him at the intimate contact. They never had anything like this before. The tender touches and fervent, secret glances. Harry shifted his hand in order to entwine his fingers in Draco's.

"Soon," he replied. He didn't have the heart to tear them away from this moment. This perfect, perfect moment that caused a happy flutter to settle low in his belly. "I just… right now, I want this."

Malfoy stared at him for an extended moment, pensive and alert. "You know, Potter. What I said…" he started, taking a deep breath, as if what he had to say next would change everything. "I _do_ love you."

"Yeah?" was all Harry could muster right about now as the both of them leaned toward each other, almost involuntarily.

"Yeah," Draco confirmed, sealing the gap between them, his lips seeking Harry's. The kiss was far different than what they were used to. Chaste and tender and telling. In that kiss, Harry could feel the truth of Draco's words. He was loved. And he was so lucky to have been found. "I was a fool not to lure you to me sooner."

"Yes, you were."


	8. The Photograph

**A/N: So... another relatively shortish chapter. I was gonna be all ominous and put a cliffhanger on to the end but... eh. maybe next chapter. (it will happen, oh it will happen. ;) ) Don't have much else to say concerning chapter 8, so I'll just talk to my reviewers, shall i? Like... hey, did I hear popular demand for a divorce? More specifically, Harry and Ginny divorce? Say _what_? But where's the fun in that when I can string them along for as long as possible? (mwahahahaha...) And trouble? We've got trouble? Right here in River City? You know what, I don't know what gave you _that _idea... you silly readers... ;)  
**

**Anyway. Enjoy. :)  
**

"You're being awfully quiet tonight, Scorpius," Draco observed as he finished chewing a piece of his sautéed duck. He watched his son push his food around his plate, hardly eating anything. Scorpius raised his eyes to meet his father's gaze. He swallowed, mumbling something under his breath.

"I'm sorry?"

"I saw you and Harry kissing this afternoon," he blurted, cheeks reddening in embarrassment and slumping several inches down his chair, almost ducking down under the table. His gaze stared somewhere to Draco's left, unwilling to make eye contact.

Draco paled, remembering the outstandingly perfect afternoon he had spent with Harry. They way they had chased each other through the sky in loops and rolls, using a charmed apple as a make-shift snitch. The way they toppled to the ground, laughing. The way Harry clung to him, kissing every inch of his face. "And?"

"And…" Scorpius shrugged. "It's…" He pursed his lips, brow furrowed as if searching for the appropriate response. "It's weird." His gaze finally met Draco's. "Men don't kiss other men."

A little piece of Draco's heart shriveled at this response. "Some men do," he cleared his throat awkwardly, returning to his dinner. "There are some men, Scorpius who don't ever fall in love with women. And those men fall in love with other men."

"So…" Scorpius started, face scrunched and considering. "You weren't in love with mother but… Harry…"

Draco nodded patiently. "You won't understand until you're older. But I care about him. And I want you to accept him like a member of this family."

"He's not going to try to take Mother's place like Ambrosius tried to take yours, is he?" Scorpius worried audibly, eyes wide and horrified.

Draco couldn't help but smile fondly at this. Scorpius had yet to make peace with his stepfather. "No, he won't ever do that. It'll be some time before we even talk about having him live with us. What Harry and I have is still very new and there are so many things that need to happen first."

Scorpius sat silently for some time, mulling this over. He stirred his peas about his plate. "I guess that'd be okay."

Draco let out a sigh of relief at this reluctant acceptance. "I'm glad to have your blessing."

~.~.~.~.~

"Draco Malfoy, what in Salazar Slytherin's name is this?" Astoria hissed, thrusting a fresh copy of the Daily Prophet into his chest as soon as she had successfully coaxed their son off to his room.

Draco frowned, accepting the paper and unfurling the ends, still curved from being tightly rolled up in the post. He let his eyes focus on a photograph emblazoned across the front page. It took him an extended moment to comprehend what he was seeing. When he did, he burst into laughter. "This is absurd!" he scoffed, holding out the offending paper at arm's length. There, as clear as day, was a scene of himself, sitting on a checkered picnic blanket, fingers entwined with a beautifully elegant woman that bore a striking resemblance to his ex-wife standing before him, hands on her hips. The two of them were locked in a passionate kiss, Draco's free hand slipping through Astoria's hair.

"Oh no," Astoria shook her dark head of curls. "It's far from absurd. It's a pain and it's a lie. Read the bloody article that went with it, you bastard!"

He raised his perfectly aristocratic brows at her choice of words. He knew she wasn't truly angry with him with the way she swore. She only swore when she was annoyed. Were she angry, she'd be hurling expensive china at his head by now. She glared at him expectantly. He sighed, returning his attention to the Prophet.

**Ex-Death Eater's Marriage on the Mend?**

_Last Tuesday, ex-Death Eater, Draco Malfoy (son of convicted Lucius Malfoy recently escaped from Azkaban), was spotted at Freja Aine Park accompanied by son Scorpius and one time wife, Astoria Greengrass. Recent pictures that surfaced since the cozy family gathering suggest the broken couple are willing to give it another go after ten years of divorce…_

"Like I said, absurd," Draco sniffed, avoiding Astoria's glare.

"Alright," she sighed, releasing her hands from her waist. "What'd you do? Is it Polyjuice? Were you sneaking bits of my hair just for this occasion? You're_ sick,_ you know that? You shouldn't-"

"It's not Polyjuice," he confirmed, raising his hand to stop his ex-wife's erratic ranting. "It's a glamour and we didn't do anything else. I promise."

Astoria pressed her slender olive toned fingers to her temples. "Was it a man? Is this about a man? Because Merlin, Draco, you don't have to sneak around with this guy whoever he is. If he makes you happy…"

Draco shook his head. "Yes I do."

"Yes, you do what?"

"Harry Potter," he murmured quietly, sucking in a breath and wringing his hands, the Prophet long since dropped to the floor at his feet.

"You…" Astoria's brow furrowed for a moment while the cogs whirred in her head. Her eyes widened as everything fell into place. "You… and Harry Potter… Bloody… Draco- he's _married_!"

"I'm well aware of that."

"He's got _children_!"

"I'm aware of that too."

"_Three_ of them!"

"Yes, Storia, I get it, I'm ruining his marriage. I'm the slutty little home wrecker whore come to steal The Boy Who Lived and Saved the Wizarding World away from all that is holy."

Astoria rolled her eyes. "You realize how dangerous this is? How utterly foolish? The whole of the old Death Eater faction will murder you in your bed if they find out."

"They won't."

"God damn it, Draco. You say that now…" She ran her fingers anxiously through her lustrous ebony locks. "You know I love you. You've been good to Scorpius. And I wouldn't want anything to happen to you for his sake. But there is a good reason why you and Potter aren't meant to be. You may have been pining over him for the past seventeen years, but sweetie, it's gotta stop. You're just going to end up hurt."

She sighed again, squeezing her eyes shut tight. "Is he worth it?"

"He's worth risking everything I have."


	9. The Decision

**A/N: some Harry/Draco fluff ahead... eeps and squees alike! ^-^ That and the foolhardy spur of the moment decisions continue... (oh those boys. *shakes head*) And I have to admit, dear reviewers, the last chapter was blatantly an inevitability, was it not? ;) I hope in the next few chapters, my intentions won't be so obvious. :p **

"Manor's so quiet now that Scorpius is gone," Draco sighed, absently running his fingers through Harry's inky mess of hair.

Harry smiled, feeling the rise and fall of Draco's bare chest against his cheek. He loved feeling his heartbeat there, strong and steady and alive. "You miss him, don't you?" he inquired softly, finding yet another piece of Draco he admired. His commitment to his son was far overreaching his commitment to his own children. Hell, if anything, Draco's relationship with Scorpius made him feel like a rotten father. Guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt. He relinquished a breath, knowing there was very little he could do to salvage his distancing relationship with his family.

"I do," Draco conceded, his voice cracked around the edges. "I feel like… these next few months, until September are the last I have with him before…"

"Hogwarts," Harry put in.

"Exactly." Draco attempted to squirm into a more comfortable position against his pillows without jostling Harry. "I don't know what I'm going to do with myself when I can't see him every other month."

"You'll have me," Harry replied thoughtfully, grin widening at the thought. "I have to admit, I missed this."

"You did, did you?" Draco smirked. "Just couldn't wait to get rid of the rascal, could you, Potter?"

Harry blinked, suddenly worried he'd offended his lover. He lifted his head, pressing his chin to Draco's chest to get a glimpse of his face. Once again, Draco wriggled so that Harry's face was closer to his. He stopped rubbing languid circles across Harry's back with his fingertips, in favour of cupping his face in his hands. "He knows about us. He understands."

Harry released a breath. "As much as a ten year old can understand?"

"Mmm," was all Malfoy could manage before capturing Harry's lips with his own. He could feel Harry smiling against him as he kissed back. "I've missed this too," he admitted as they pulled apart. "Astoria is not happy about our arrangement," he sighed, slumping back against the pillows.

Harry frowned. "Your arrangement with Scorpius?" he questioned, surprised. "But I thought she didn't care so long as-"

"It isn't about Scorpius, you imbecile." Draco rolled his eyes. "No. About _us._ She has this idea in her head that Death Eaters are going to come after me."

"And _are_ they?" Harry inquired, stomach twisting at the thought. He didn't know what he would do if anything were to happen to Draco.

Draco shook his head. "I started this knowing the risks I would be taking. But I want you, Harry. I want you so completely, it hurts when I can't have you. And thinking of you with that Weasley chit… I…"

Harry watched him patiently, waiting for him to let all of this out. It wasn't every day Draco Malfoy opened up to anyone. He daren't interrupt his rampant thoughts. "I just… want things to be different. To be easier. To be able to be with you without feeling guilt for taking everything away from your wife. I want…" He stopped short, clamping his jaw shut.

"What?" Harry insisted. "You want what?"

"You to leave her," Draco breathed, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He didn't want to see the look on his lover's face. "I can't ask that of you, Harry. It's too much."

Harry shook his head. "No," he disagreed, heart filling and pounding in his chest at the very notion. "No, it's not. It's… it's _everything_, Draco. The only thing is is I don't know _how_."

"Let's leave," Draco said suddenly, impulsive but sure.

"What? _Now_?" Harry asked, skeptical. "You know I can't… outside the Manor…"

"No," Draco shook his head, his stormy grey eyes gleaming with reckless determination. "I mean _leave_. Take everything we have and go."

"What? Just… run away?" Harry demanded with a gasp, searching Draco's expression for signs of the joke. There was none. All there was was that fiery look of passion in his eyes that almost frightened him.

Draco nodded. "We can go and be together and you can deal with your wife from afar… it's perfect."

Harry frowned. "Malfoy, is this your answer to_ everything_?" He didn't mean for it to come as an accusation. "Just… run away? Take the coward's way out?

"You hypocrite." A dark look crossed Malfoy's every feature. Harry flinched. He shifted into a sitting position against the headboard, pushing Harry away. "You fucking hypocrite. This isn't about _my _cowardess, Potter. It's about what _I want_. _I'm_ just trying to make the best of this situation! And if _you're _too frightened to stand up to your _wife,_ then who's the real coward? You tell me."

Harry made to argue but fell short. He didn't want to admit it, but Malfoy was right. All this time, he had been coming to Malfoy in order to escape from his wife. To escape confrontation, to escape disappointment, to escape resentment. But now he could see, he would receive all that no matter what he did now. "Where will we go?"

"France," Malfoy replied immediately with an inclining jerk of his chin. "We have a chateau in Nice we retreat to over holidays. We can bring Scorpius there when I have him. He'll be off to Hogwarts soon and he'll feel more comfortable at the chateau during the holidays anyway. All that's left is to find a way to settle things with your wife."

Harry's lip twitched. He no longer knew what sounded like a disastrous idea. As far as he knew, getting to spend infinite amount of time with Draco was an ideal life he _knew_ he should be living. He released a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Okay."

**A/N: like i said, eeps and squees alike! If you did happen to squee audibly, review. . let's see how many fangirls i can implode. ;)**


	10. The Confession

**A/N: Excellent. A nice decent length chapter, just as I wanted it. So... Harry and Draco plan on running off together, do they? How utterly romantic... But they can't get off that easy, now can they? It's high time we introduce some villainy. ;) As always, feel free to review, cuz you know i love it when you do. :)**

"I need your help," were the first words out of Harry's mouth as he stepped through the threshold. His palms were sweating and his throat was dry. He had to keep telling himself he had to do this. Because he couldn't do this all on his own.

Hermione Granger-Weasley's lips thinned, an expression of worry palpable on her face as she studied him. "Come in, Harry," she replied somberly, the look in her eye making Harry suspect she might already _know_. And if Hermione knew… he didn't want to think about it.

"I… I think I've made a huge mistake," he confessed as his hostess offered him a seat in her cozy livingroom she shared with Ron and their two kids. Hermione said nothing, sitting back against the couch cushions, waiting patiently for his words to come. "I… the Malfoy case… He wasn't paying me for _protection_." He swallowed, hoping this was enough for Hermione to decipher without him actually having to say it. Her expression remained trained, coaxing Harry to continue before she said anything. "At first it was an obligation. I came to him because he had paid for my help, in whichever twisted sense of the word he saw it. But I…" he sighed, leaning forward and holding his head in his hands. "He's in love with me and I can't… I can't deny him anymore."

Hermione passed him a genuinely sympathetic look, leaning forward to clasp his hand in hers. "Harry…" she tried, her voice soft and soothing and full of regret. "I know you haven't been happy with Ginny."

Harry blinked. "You…?" He lifted his gaze to hers. She nodded bitterly.

"I see it in the way you look at her, like whatever life you expected to have with her has been a disappointment," Hermione confirmed, eyes shining with clear sadness for her two close friends' relationship, damaged beyond repair. "Harry, whenever Malfoy confronted you at Hogwarts, you fought back. You fought back with a passion I'd never seen in you. After Sirius died, Malfoy seemed to be the one thing keeping you alive. You… were constantly seeking him out, anticipating his next move. You were looking for a fight and maybe… maybe even then, you were looking for something far more."

"What're you saying, Hermione?" Harry wheezed. "You… you think I had feelings for him then? That I led him on?" He had half a mind to feel offended by her accusation.

She shook her bushy head of hair. "No, Harry. I'm simply saying that back then, you chose Ginny because she was who everyone _expected _you to be with. You fooled yourself into believing that you wanted her… that all of that pent up sexual aggression within you was down to her. That she could release it. But Harry, this isn't Hogwarts anymore and it's time you make decisions for yourself."

Harry pursed his lips, pressing a hand to his mouth. "He wants me to run away with him. But I can't leave her, Hermione. I can't tell her that I don't want her… The kids…"

"If you talk to her, Harry, tell her what you want, maybe she'll understand." Harry made to argue, but she put up her hand to stop him. "I'm not saying you have to tell her everything and I'm not saying she's likely to accept it, but she'll understand. You deserve to be happy, Harry. You more than anyone else in this world deserve to be happy."

~.~.~.~.~

Ambrosius Nott did not care for_ mess_ in his household. Nor did he care for cleaning up a mess himself. Although well groomed and well mannered, his stepson had a habit of leaving things lying around where they _shouldn't be_ lying around. He grumbled, cursing his wife for being so adverse to keeping house elves in the house if he refused to pay them. The wizarding world had really gone to the dogs since the Dark Lord's demise.

He bent down to pick up the offending article and was about to Incendio the now two day old edition of the Daily Prophet to bits before catching sight of the image smattered across the front page. Astoria. And Malfoy. His eyes narrowed, recalling the conversation he had overheard his wife having with her ex. He had initially been shocked and appalled at the article- which was clearly errant hearsay, but the photographs told a completely different story altogether. He and his wife never argued. They were perfectly content with one another. And he'd honestly thought he'd found the perfect wife.

But those pictures… those pictures had him flying off the handle. What in the _hell _had she been doing with her ex-husband? Sneaking around behind his back… it was uncalled for. They'd rowed for the first time in their three years of marriage.

"No, I did _not _hook up with Draco, you great ponce!" she'd insisted again and again and again. "How many bloody times do I have to tell you, he's not _of _that persuasion?"

It was as good an excuse as any. One Ambrosius was disinclined to believe until Malfoy had the gall to grace them with his presence. He'd slunk away into the kitchen, just around the corner from the sitting room, where he could easily hear every word of Astoria verbally abusing her ex-husband.

His sense of anger began to ebb, only to be replaced by smug pride. There the Malfoy fiend was, getting his penance. But then…

_It was a glamour. _

_ You don't have to sneak around._

_ Yes. I do._

_ Do what?_

_ Harry Potter._

Harry the Bloody Boy Who Lived and Sent the Wizarding World all to Hell Potter. Involved with Draco Malfoy. Ambrosius sneered. Lucius would have a coronary.

~.~.~.~.~

Harry, spurred on by Hermione's unexpected pep talk, understood what he had to do. What he had to say to Ginny to make her understand. He hadn't been fair on her. He hadn't been honest. She deserved the truth. He would return home and tell her everything.

Too anxious to apparate or floo, he decided upon the muggle tube station. Sitting in the grubby, packed space on the train gave him time to think. Time to put his words in order. Time to back out if all else failed… return home, pack his trunk and go to his lover and insist they leave that instant.

Draco.

Merlin- he just needed to be held right now. To be told what to do. Not that Hermione wasn't talking sense. Or that Draco ever talked _any _sense at all… Draco's plans… they were short term. The chateau… Nice… Scorpius… What Hermione had suggested… it was long term. And sensible. But harder. Much, much harder. If he had to choose between what he was about to do and defeat Voldemort all over again, he'd take Voldemort. He'd take Voldemort any day.

At one point, he considered dragging Draco over to his home with him. To give him courage. To give him a voice. To give Ginny proof. But he couldn't do that to Draco. This was his problem and he had to solve it himself.

Choking down his fear, he stepped off the train onto the platform and made his way toward the nearest apparation point. He knew if didn't apparate now, he'd back out and go running back into Malfoy's arms, back at the Manor.

He felt the familiar tug at his naval, that sensation of being squeezed tightly and then stuffed into a glass jar far smaller than he was as he completed his apparation.

Home. He shivered, realizing the weight of what he was about to do. This may just be the one moment to liberate him. He sucked in a breath, reaching into his deep coat pocket for his keys. Feeling the cool metal beneath his fingertips, he pulled them out and fit the corresponding key into the lock to his front door.

What he entered to made his heart stop, his auror instincts kicking in. From the foyer, multitudinous copies of the Daily Prophet that had been previously stacked by the door were torn into shred and strewn across the floor. Within the sitting room, furniture was over turned. Scorch marks streaked the walls, deep and brown and still spelling of smoke.

His dominant hand reached for his wand in his jeans pocket. He tried to steady his breathing. Someone had been here. Someone had been looking for something. From the looks of things, it was fairly recent too.

Ginny should have been home by now. And the children… His heart pounded in his chest as he called out to them. No answer. He could feel his legs giving out as he tried to reach the kitchen.

He thrust a hand out and caught himself on the door jamb of the kitchen before he could topple. He blinked, noticing someone sitting at the table. Long almost white blond hair tied at the back with a baby blue ribbon. Eyes stone cold and grey- as deep and grey as Draco's. But older and much more severe. The man's mouth twitched in a sneer, his right hand reaching out to tighten its hold on his find.

Ginny. Paralyzed by a bodybinding spell of sorts. Her eyes widened at the sight of Harry, standing, in shocked disbelief in the doorway.

"Well well, Potter. Nice of you to join us," Lucius Malfoy sneered, giving a sharp tug to Ginny's hair as he did so. "It appears you have some explaining to do."


	11. The Unforgivables

**A/N: Okay. I just wanna start with some big ol' glomps to my reviewers... omg... you guys rock... and seem to be eating up the new cliffy! Who'd of thought? ;) Alrighty, well, I'll give a shout to those select few who _did _send some raving reviews my way:**

**queerlove: (love the name, by the way... :P) Thank you so much! That's the first review I've gotten saying how awesome my writing is! :O yay! *warm and fuzzies!* I was beginning to think... no, i don't know what i was beginning to think. But anyway. Yes. I _am _a rather insane grammar fanatic. Everything has to be _perfect _goddamnit! There is nothing worse than poor grammar... except poor spelling. And i do try. :) I mean, if i couldn't write, i'd die. simple as that. **

**Muffin-DanishFreak: Also thank you so much to you too! :D :D :D Wow, I'm so glad I got you hooked! ^^ that makes me so happy, you have no idea. And cliffies? Awesome, right? ;) I love a good plot twist to get everyone squirming. :P**

**uh. also. quick note. Rereading through this, i found a continuity issue which i certainly hope nobody caught cuz i haven't heard anything about it... in Chapter 1, Harry goes to what he describes as Malfoy's apartment when in the following chapters, he and Draco are at the Manor. Now, my theory is that Draco rented out the apartment for the night to make himself seem less intimidating. That and he's rich and he can do these sorts of things... anyway... continuity fanatic as well. everything. must. be. perfect. ;)  
**

**Anyway, guys. I know you've all been waiting for this new plot development to conclude itself, so I'll just leave you to it and sit in the corner here and grin maniacally at you all.**

"What- what the hell do you want, Malfoy?" Harry spat, feeling the irony of the Malfoy name on his tongue. How he had learned to love the very man Lucius Malfoy had brought into the world was beyond him. Draco may have known the risks far better than Harry did and the fact that he had been so blind scared him.

"You've been stealing what is mine," Lucius Malfoy drawled, toying absently with his wand in his free hand, pointed in Ginny's direction. "Has no one told you not to touch _other people's things_?"

"I…" he swallowed. "I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," he replied, trying to remain as calm as possible while his wife was being threatened and the kids… oh god! _The kids_! Merlin only knew what sort of things Lucius Malfoy had already done to his kids!

"I think you know very well what I am talking about, Potter. Traipsing about in public posing as Astoria Greengrass… Don't tell me you didn't expect me to find out about your dirty little secret. What did you think you would do? Further coerce Draco into joining your side? I know it was you! _You _who tempted Draco against the Dark Lord!"

Harry blinked. _Me?_ Of all the unlikely… But it _wasn't_ unlikely. Not when Draco had confessed his unrequited love he had suffered for the past near twenty years. There were so many things he had yet to discover about Draco Malfoy. "What do you expect to achieve here, Malfoy? Voldemort is dead! The glory days are over! Time to go crawling back to Azkaban where you belong!"

"Oh, but don't you see, Potter? A Death Eater gives his every word- his every last breath to the Dark Lord. I will not rest until He rises again under my hand!"

Harry had to truly fight back the urge to laugh. Lucius Malfoy? Attempting to resurrect the Dark Lord? "And what does all this have to do with me?"

"What does all this have to do with _you_?" Lucius scoffed with an arrogant shake of his head. "I've had enough of your childish games, Potter. Now you will do what I say, or the blood traitor dies." He emphasized his point by thrusting his wand sharply against Ginny's neck. A look of terror crossed her ever paling, freckled visage.

"You wouldn't dare," Harry growled, taking a lunging step forward.

"On the contrary. I think I'd quite enjoy your witnessing your wife go the very same way as your children." Lucius sneered, taking in the staggered expression on Harry's face. He raised a perfectly aristocratic brow, watching in amusement as the life altogether drained from his eyes at this admonition.

"You bastard," Harry seethed, his fist tightening on his wand as he threw it out toward Lucius' direction. He could feel himself shaking from head to toe at the very thought. His children. His three beautiful children… lost to a madman obsessed with revenge. James. Albus. _Lily_. "You _murderer_!"

It was at that very moment that Harry could no longer keep his fury at bay. Throwing all auror training to the wind, he threw himself at Malfoy, his fist making to collide with the psychopath's face. Lucius caught his wrist midway, twisting, twisting it until he had Harry writhing on the floor. Harry screamed in spite of himself. He tried to bite it back to no avail.

Taking advantage of his opponent's newly obtained shock and physical pain, Lucius pressed his wand to Harry's crown and uttered a spell. Harry's vision darkened into nothing until he lost consciousness completely, having never discovered which spell he had been attacked by.

~.~.~.~.~

Draco was anxious to hear news from Harry. Last he had heard, he had gone down to the mudbloo- ah… _Granger_'s humble abode to put together a more sensible plot in informing the Weasley bitch- that is, Harry's _wife_ of their new arrangement. He had to admit, he was positively jubilant about their plans. Their plans. The plans he and Harry shared. Their future. His heart pounded at the very thought.

But where was he? What was taking him so long? Would the Weaslette really hold him up_ that_ long? In need of explanation? Or had she Bat Bogey Hexed him to death and he was lying in a ditch somewhere? Was she-Weasel capable of that?

Draco decided he didn't want to know. He decided to pace instead. Back and forth across his luxurious crimson and gold embroidered carpet. Where the fuck _was_ he?

He began to second guess himself. What if he changed his mind? What if he wanted to take his wife back? What if he realized what a horrible mistake being with Draco would be? What if what if what if?

All of a sudden, the flames quietly crackling in the fireplace shuddered to life. Draco jumped, half expecting Harry to step through onto the hearth.

"Draco," Astoria addressed him from the flames, her voice frantic and hair a mass of hysterical fly away wisps. Only her head was visible through the grate as she craned her neck to see if anyone else was there. "Oh, Draco. You must come quickly. It's Scorpius. Oh… _god_…"

Draco hardly needed to be told twice. His heart pounding a hundred fold faster than normal, caught up in his throat, he nodded, allowing Astoria to pull herself back into her own sitting room. He followed her through the floo network.

He had never seen Astoria so flustered and panic stricken in his life. He began to assume the worst for his son.

"I… Draco… the cellar…" she attempted to explain in broken, incoherent sentences as she clamped a hand down on his wrist and led him toward the trap door in the far corner of the kitchen. "I-I don't… I don't know what happened!" she sobbed, fat streaks of tears dribbling across each cheek. She crouched down in her skirts to pull up the heavy latch, throwing open the door.

They clambered down the steps, two stairs at a time. Draco absently noted to cast lumos to brighten their otherwise dim path. "Scorpius!" He called out, practically choking on his words. Whatever was going on, must be deadly serious. He didn't want to know what could possibly happen to his son. "Scorpius!"

"Father!" came an answering voice, echoing down the lengthy corridor. Draco broke into a run in the direction of his son's painstakingly familiar voice, riddled with fear. "Father! Go back! It's a trap! It's a…"

Draco came to a full, sudden stop, heaving for breath. He gripped his side, allowing his eyes to focus on the scene before him. What he saw made his insides shrivel. Scorpius, arms pulled taut behind his back and eyes wide, stared at him unblinkingly, shaking. Flanked around him was his stepfather and his cousin, Theodore Nott. In the corner were two bodies, thrown in an unmoving heap. He didn't want to think about their unfortunate demise…

Particularly when there, in the dead center of it all, was his father, in all his Death Eaten glory.

"Hello, Draco," Lucius greeted him as warmly as could be expected from the deranged man before him. "We brought you and audience."

"W-what?" Draco fumbled, casting a frantic glance around the room. Astoria stood, in a stone cold trance beside him, her eyes cold and wraith-like. She advanced on him, alongside at least a dozen Death Eaters, advancing, advancing until he was trapped within their inner circle.

"I'm sure your darling Harry Potter will want to see the show," Ambrosius Nott mocked openly with a shrill, spine-chilling laugh. He swept down upon the heap of bodies in the corner, pointing his wand toward one of what Draco assumed to be corpses. With an unspoken counter-curse, Harry Potter was pulled out of a strong body bind. It took an extended moment for him to regain his focus. When he did, his emerald green eyes flashed behind shattered glasses, wide and fearful.

"No!" he shrieked with what little voice he appeared to have left. "No! Draco! _No_!" He thrashed against Ambrosius' restraining grip, screaming incoherent words.

The band of Death Eaters advanced still. Draco revolved on the spot, searching desperately for an opening. But as the cult grew closer, the harder it was to find a gap to escape through.

"You failed me, Draco," Lucius Malfoy hissed, his voice sounding far away in Draco's pounding ears. He could both hear and feel the blood rushing fast about his brain, circuiting through the rest of his body. Keeping him alive. Keeping him sane. "You failed the Dark Lord. And for that…" he thrust his wand out in front of him, aiming dead straight for his son.

"Crucio!"

A dozen jets of light streamed from a dozen raised wands, catapulting toward him. From outside the circle, Draco heard Harry's screams before the excruciating pain ripped through him and he lost himself.


	12. The Rescue

**A/N: Short chapter. I was feeling uninspired in the writing department today. Not so much the plotting department... as far as i know, it's all good in the land of the plot. :) I'm hoping to finish this thing in the next few chapters (give it two to five). But anyway... I see we're all distressed about a.)Malfoy and b.)the fate of the Potter kids... yes, I'm a sick little sadistic writer, aren't I? Killing children... who does that? ;) I'm very pleased to have received such a strong response to both accounts. Otherwise, y'know, we might need to get some brains checked... **

**and also, I just want to apologise if some of you waited all day for this update, I did originally post it late last night but for some reason, ff wouldn't take it. so anyway, if you had those complications like i know i did, that'd be why.**

**and also also, i apologise if my writing isn't up to par in this one. tomkitten is a tired girl. when your eyes begin to go all cross eyed with the effort, you know you should give up while you're ahead. i do promise more as soon as possible though. :)  
**

"NO!" A flash of white light erupted in Ambrosius Nott's face, casting him backwards several feet.

Harry'd had enough. His children were long gone and now Draco… He couldn't sit and watch this take place. He couldn't watch Draco being tortured to death at his own father's hand. He couldn't. "_Stop it_!"

He ignored the tears of fury cascading down his face. It didn't matter now. He had no comprehension of anything going on around him except for Draco. He paid no notice to the blinding flares of light, flashing in a multitude of sparks and colour very akin to fireworks, but far more deadly under the circumstances. His eyes could only focus on Draco, twisting and shrieking in agony as the curses hit him one right after another after another.

"Please… god! Just-" Harry tried, shouting over the din of crashes and zaps of light, chest heaving. "_Expelliarmus_!"

Six wands flew out of Draco's captors' hands in Harry's direction, darting like arrows across the room. The now utterly incapacitated half of Death Eaters stood stunned for a second before glaring and confirming their new target with several nods. Lucius Malfoy, detecting the distinct lack of curses being cast, held up a hand to halt the remaining wand-bearers.

"I think we've had enough for now," he sneered, his gaze never leaving Harry, threat still abundant in his eyes. "It appears Mr. Potter is looking for a fight. Is that so, Potter?"

"You don't have to do this," Harry found himself spluttering, wiping his tear-dampened face with the back of his hand. He was just_ so_ tired of fighting. He thought he'd given all that up a decade ago with Voldemort's defeat. He no longer had the stamina of his youth. "Please… let him go. We don't _need _this! He's your son! Please… he's your _son_."

"And I do recall you had every intention of leaving your _own_," Lucius challenged, a dark look in his eyes that told Harry he would not change his mind for anything. "How many were there, Potter? Two? And a little girl…"

"_Shut up_ about them," Harry growled through gritted teeth, his hand clasping ever tighter around his wand. "You had no right."

A crash erupted upstairs, shaking the ceiling, dust and debris crumbling from the beams. Harry jumped. They were too far separated from the rest of the house for him to distinguish the cause of the commotion above them. With no obvious escape except back up where they came, Harry supposed they had no choice but to wait for whatever it was to come to them.

They weren't waiting long when voices could be heard following the loud creak of hinges as the door pulled upward. Footsteps descended the stairs. There was something familiar about the heaviness of the closest stride- the way it created the weighty thud across floorboards. Trusting his gut, he felt a sense of hope wash through him.

His instincts appeared to ring true as Ron Weasley stood his ground, clad in auror robes and flanked by half a dozen colleagues including Kingsley Shacklebolt himself.

Thank god he brought back up.

~.~.~.~.~

It took some coercion to convince Lucius Malfoy to give up his crazed scheme. Even then, he backed down with reluctance, having dueled for a harrowing time with Ron and numerous other aurors. Before long, it was obvious why Lucius had gathered so many followers- he was very nearly incapable of defending himself. His spell-work was weak and he fumbled as if he suffered some sort of imperiling affliction. As if Azkaban had aged him another fifty years. Perhaps with the dementors there, it had.

Harry had been vaguely aware that Ginny was still body bound in the corner but his thoughts were on Malfoy as all the Death Eaters were rounded up and immediately sent into custody.

Malfoy lay limp in the middle of the floor, his body bleeding and broken, utterly crushed and full of defeat. On shaking legs, Harry moved to him as quickly as his still recovering shock-laden legs could carry him. He knelt to reach out a hand to cup Draco's cheek.

The blond's eyes were shut tight, pain clear in every little piece of him. He moaned, leaning into Harry's touch, letting him know he was aware of Harry's presence.

Harry's free hand crept toward Malfoy's hand. He grasped up those long, slender fingers and knotted them with his own, holding on tight. "Draco," he breathed, his voice coming out far more desperate than he anticipated. He pulled Draco's hand up toward his lips, pressing them to the fair knuckles and applying a lingering pressure there before pulling his lips away. "Draco, please don't. Please don't do this to me. I… I need you, Draco. I need you more than ever. You're all I ever wanted and if you leave me now… There wouldn't be anything left of me. Merlin. I love you, Draco. Fight it. Fight this. For us. Please, do it for us."

"Ha… rree," Draco's voice came in a tired, tormented croak, choke by the pain, his eyes still screw tightly shut. His fingers gave Harry the smallest of squeezes before he drifted out of consciousness.

"Harry," a familiar male voice rang out behind him. He glanced up to find Ron, with Ginny's arm draped over his shoulder and his own supporting her waist. "We should head out. We're talking Astoria to St. Mungo's. She's very likely to have been under the Imperious. Can you handle Malfoy on your own or…"

"I'll take him," Harry interrupted quickly, earning a bemused frown from a still shell-shocked Ginny.

Ron studied him for an extended moment, not looking particularly convinced. After this moment though, he nodded, resigned, turning Ginny toward the stairs. "Be careful, mate."

Harry nodded, beginning to prepare himself for what would be quite a strain of a levitation spell. Exhaustion coupled with shock and grief and then laced with the use of magic… he barely knew what energy he had left in him.

But Malfoy needed him. And that was all that mattered.


	13. The Reunion

**A/N: Ah! What to say what to say? I don't know. *shrugs*. Um... let me just put this out there: all who are familiar with my writing know that I have that habit of utilising gritty storylines and often neglect the happy ending principle. Before you guys all cry, I say who honestly knows how this thing's gonna end? Well. Me. haha. *raises hand*. But starting this, i didn't intend for it to get so dark, I just go to that dark dark place on autopilot. So perhaps there's a happy ending to this yet. We shall see... **

**just not in this chapter. ;)**

There wasn't much else he could do. Not right now. Harry wished he could do more. He wished he could wave his wand and make all of this better. To return home to find the kids waiting for him. For Ginny…

He furrowed his brow. He no longer knew what he wanted with Ginny. And he no longer knew how much she was aware of. Had she heard Lucius Malfoy's every tirade against Harry and his sick, unnatural relationship with his son? God… they would have something to talk about when all of this was over and done with. So much to talk about. Even more than they did before. That looming conversation had become all the more ominous. He didn't want to think about it. What with Draco in St. Mungo's…

He couldn't take any of this right now.

"Harry," Hermione called out to him from behind. He revolved mechanically on the spot. Her hair was flying in all directions, making it appear more voluminous than usual as she approached, a young boy following at her elbow. "Harry. I'm so relieved I've found you."

Harry's heart constricted painfully in his chest at the sight of those mercurial eyes, gazing completely unassuming but begging, begging for something, for some news, anything, up at him. At the flaxen hair that fell so slightly obstruct those eyes. _Draco_…

"Harry, Scorpius needs someone right now. What with Astoria still recovering and Malfoy…" she bit her lip, trailing off. "Harry, you're the only one I can think to-"

"I know," Harry sighed, swallowing his fear and taking a tentative step toward Draco's little double. "I understand, Hermione. I can take him."

"You're welcome to stay with us, Harry," Hermione offered, taking a moment to study him. "Your kids are already there and-"

"_What_?" Harry lifted his head to meet her gaze so fast, he was seeing stars. Hermione gave him a funny look.

"Well… yes, Harry. What did you _think_ happened to them?" she inquired, crossing her arms over her chest. "James flooed them all over to ours as soon as Malfoy apparated in."

"Oh… sweet Merlin," Harry expelled a sigh of relief, dropping his head in his hands. He had to sit down. Before his legs gave out. "I thought… I thought…" Black spots began to appear before his very eyes. The relief was overwhelming. "I have to see them."

"Of course, Harry."

~.~.~.~.~

There was a commotion as Harry stepped out of the floo, closely followed by Hermione and Scorpius. He barely had time to dust the soot off himself before he was thrown to the floor in one fell blow. He caught his breath.

"Daddy!" a little voice exclaimed in a very close proximity to him as hands grasped at the fabric of his knitted Weasley sweater. "Daddy we were so scared!"

Harry managed to extricate himself enough to recognize his daughter, eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and relief. He released a breath, reaching up to run his fingers through her flaming red hair, tucking it behind her ear. "Merlin, Lily. I'm so glad that you're okay." He held her as close to him as physically possible, never wanting to let his little girl go. Not when she could have been… He squeezed his eyes shut. It was all over. He no longer had to linger on it. The important part was that his children were safe.

"Dad?" Two pairs of inquisitive eyes found him from over Lily's shoulder. Harry sucked in a breath.

"James," he acknowledged, tears forming behind his eyes at the rush of emotion that gripped him, seeing his boys there, safe and sound. "Al." He beckoned them to him and they rushed, open armed and clinging. Whatever rift his affair had caused between him and his kids seemed to be well repaired in one horrific crisis that could have cost them all their lives. A crisis that consolidated their love and the bond they felt as a family.

When all was said and done and they were done celebrating their reunion, Harry spotted Scorpius, standing awkward and alone, a few feet away, picking absently at the thread of his sleeve. Harry scrambled to his feet. "Kids, I'd like you to meet Scorpius. His parents are in St. Mungo's right now and he'll be staying with us for a while."

Three pairs of eyes fell to the timid blond boy, acknowledging him with inconspicuous child-like acceptance.

"Wanna play Quidditch in the back garden?" James offered, the first of the three to address their new friend. "You can borrow my broom. Uncle Ron brought ours over to keep our mind off things."

"We could see if Rosie and Hugo wanna play too!" Al piped up excitably. A crack of a smile slipped it's way across Scorpius' face.

Harry smiled. Something told him things were going to be just fine.

~.~.~.~.~

Draco was still unconscious when Harry next went to see him. His breathing was ragged and he fidgeted in his sleep as if thrust into a constant nightmare. Merlin- he looked _awful_. He was bashed and bruised in seemingly every contour of his body. Harry wanted to touch him but was afraid if he did so, it would only cause more pain.

Astoria was to be released that afternoon, the Imperious having been completely lifted from her system. Harry couldn't even imagine what that had been like… being forced against her will to hurt someone she cared for? And she hadn't even been aware of doing it. And here Draco was, suffering for her brainwashed actions. None of them deserved this. Not Astoria, not Scorpius, not Draco, not him.

Astoria would be devastated to recall her husband's treacherous actions. A _Death Eater's_ actions. Harry may not have known her very well, but from what he heard from Draco, she was a decent woman who far from deserved any of this. To be jerked around like this… it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair in the slightest.

"Mr. Potter," the healer addressed him as she entered Draco's room. "Might I have a word?"

"Of course," Harry replied, his insides suddenly twisting into a great knot. He didn't like the way she'd said it.

"It appears having been hit with multiple Unforgivable curses at once, Draco is suffering from severe internal bleeding."

Harry swallowed. "Is there any… any way you can stop it?"

The healer pursed her lips. "The sheer power of the curses added up makes Draco's injuries near impossible to cure. After all, with a curse of this extreme on it's own could take months, maybe even years in some cases to rehabilitate a patient. Multiply it to the dozens and it becomes irreversible."

_Irreversible_. Harry played with this word, silently on his lips for an extended moment, unable to comprehend it. "Is there any alternative? M-muggle medicines? Surgery… I don't know. _Anything_?"

The healer eyed him intently. "That is a step we rarely consider. However, it may be in Draco's best interest if we try."


	14. The Epiphany

**A/N: Okay. *Scratches head* Wow. This is hard. Really hard. Announcing the end to this beautiful piece of magic I had originally started as a crack one shot a year ago at writer's camp. I'm glad you guys have enjoyed this little fic as much as i have, even if I have stressed you out with heart attack inducing cliffies. (ahahahahahaha... i regret nothing. xD) I'll have y'all know, this wasn't the ending i was expecting, as i literally changed my mind five minutes before writing it. Always happens. what can ya do? Anyway. I'd like to thank you all for hanging around and sending praise for my writing and hopefully we'll see each other soon with more Harry/Draco shenanigans in a much fluffier circumstance... :) Til then, enjoy. ^^**

**ack! god damn it! and i forgot! warnings for man on man action. it's brief. blink and you'll miss it. or you know, with the blatant profanity, maybe you won't. ;)**

"My parents have a doctor. They say he's very good," Hermione offered between bites of take out. She may have been a witch, but her muggle habits died hard. "I mean, on occasion, we'll even take the kids over there if we felt uncomfortable with the healers. Very rare though."

"Well, of _course_!" Ron sniffed, still halfway through chewing his latest mouthful of chow-mein. "I mean… what _can't _magic do?"

"Save Draco," Harry winced, his heart constricting in his chest as he thought of it. Hermione shot her husband a glare. He shrugged, slumping down further in his chair, more for comfort than out of shame.

"That's rotten luck, mate," Ron shook his head to make up for his slight. "To be honest, I don't know what you see in him."

"_Ronald_!" Hermione hissed, giving him a swift kick in the shins. "Harry's entitled to be in love with whomever he likes!"

"And break my sister's heart?" Ron retorted, shooting Harry a deathly glare. Harry squirmed in his seat. "Not bloody likely."

Harry decided at that moment that his shoes were far more interesting than anything else. He fumbled with his hands. "I understand the consequences of my actions, Ron. And this is nothing against you or your family but I just… I don't feel the same way about Ginny anymore. I still love her- just not… in that way. I've changed."

"Yeah? And you just had to run around fucking the ferret behind her back?" Ron's retort was thick with venom and accusing. His hands gripped each arm to his chair, his fingers digging in. "You couldn't even find someone decent to do it with! It had to be _Malfoy_!"

An ache was beginning to form at the front of Harry's head. He squeezed his eyes shut in regret. He should have known he'd get the worst of it from Ron. He hadn't even considered telling him about the affair at all and now…

"I love him," Harry admitted in a small voice. "I love him, Ron and I know it's hard to believe after everything we've been through, but it's the truth. And I can't ignore it anymore. He makes me happy. Really, genuinely happy. And if anything happens to him…" He sucked in a shuddering breath. "I… I don't even know how I'd make it through this."

"You have us, Harry," Hermione assured him, smoothly changing the topic before Ron flared up again with a spiteful comeback. "We're here for you. No matter what happens."

~.~.~.~.~

Draco felt a distinctive change in the atmosphere around him. Everything was shifting, jerking, and he knew his body wasn't lying still. He was being careened forward, too fast to adjust to. Oh, sweet Merlin, how he_ ached_. But he couldn't open his eyes. For all of the movement and all of the pain… he'd rather just lie here, unaware, trapped in this bittersweet ignorance of what was happening to him. He felt disconnected from himself. As if he were watching himself from above; an aerial view. Only what he thought he saw wasn't pretty.

Lights were flashing, dials blinking and sirens shrieking in every which direction. Everything. Everything about him screamed _emergency_.

This was surely hell.

His body thrashed against its unknown bindings (for they were there, he just couldn't comprehend them fully) Someone was attempting to force him down where the bindings didn't tug at his torso and legs. He could feel himself slipping.

His breathing slipping.

Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad thing…

His head was clearing.

Emptying.

Dissipating.

Into nothing.

~.~.~.~.~

Harry stood and stared, hand clasped over his mouth, his jaw aquiver, as he witnessed Draco give up. He'd never seen him so battered before. So defeated. So… resigned.

He wanted to keep telling himself that Draco still had a fighting chance. That he could still fight this. That he could still fight it and _win_.

There were tubes drawing blood, tubes feeding him oxygen, tubes connecting him to the CCG monitor on his bedside… Everything was so artificial… so sterile here.

Harry hated it. He hated that this was their only choice left. And hated it even more knowing it could do even less for Draco.

He watched with blind, unblinking eyes as the neon green line on the monitor dipped into one last plunging spike before flat-lining completely.

~.~.~.~.~

_Draco had entered that shop, one of many shops that day, accompanied by his father. He attempted to match his father's manner stride for stride, hoping that maybe if he could be just like him, he could make his father proud. Just maybe._

_ He'd needed new robes for school. Hogwarts, Father said it was called. The same school he and Mother had gone. They'd discussed it often enough. Said it was up to him to uphold the Malfoy family name in the noble house of Slytherin. Granted he get in, of course. But there was no doubt of that. After all, it was in his blood._

_ There had been another boy there, at Madam Malkin's that day. Draco had to admit, he was pleased to see another boy his age he could talk to. Perhaps they might even end up friends. No doubt he was going to Hogwarts too- Father said Durmstrang boys didn't dare shop at Diagon Alley. He was quick to make his acquaintance. Made small talk ("have_ you_ ever played Quidditch?") and generally made quite the impression of himself, thank you very much. _

_ All he wanted was a handshake. Some acceptance from the first person he would ever meet at this new school of his- this place he would call home for the next seven years. All he wanted was a friendship that might have lasted throughout his academic life. _

_ When his hand was flat out refused, Draco knew it would be his fate to forever haunt the Potter boy until the day he said_ yes_._

~.~.~.~.~

_ He was sixteen. A year away from finishing school forever. A year away from entering the real world. A year away from becoming a man. And here he was, set to take on a quite impossible task that he could not deny. Not to save his life._

_ At first he took it as an honour that the Dark Lord would choose him. But killing someone_- murder_ was something he couldn't possibly carry through. Merlin knew he_ tried_. Cursed necklace, poison sherry… Anything so long as he didn't have to do it _himself_._

_ He was a coward._

_ He heard it from Potter every day. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day, the git's words were in his head. Coward, they mocked. Shove off, they leered. He's not worth it, he pressed. _

_ And each time, it stung. Like a dagger twisting in his gut. Rejected. Again._

_ He knew that if he went through with this, he would never be able to face him again. There would never be a chance again to gain Harry Potter's acknowledgement as a friend._

_ The wardrobes weren't working. Everything he had tried had failed. He couldn't do this anymore. Tearing at his collar to loosen his tie, choking at his neck, he lowered his head against the sink in the boys' loos. His face twisted and he could hold it in no longer._

_ He couldn't. He couldn't do any of this. Not now. Not ever. What was the use?_

_ To make matters worse, Potter was there. Great bloody Boy Who Lived and Rejected Draco Malfoy, shoving his way into his life like it was his business. _

_ He shot a curse at the git before he could try anything. In his mind's eye, it would have happened differently. In his mind's eye, the duel would not have escalated. He would not have ended up sprawled on the floor, bleeding half to death at the hands of Harry Potter._

_ In his mind's eye, something else happened entirely._

_ Harry came in, unannounced, rudely disrupting Draco's outpour of emotions. He did not lift his wand and neither did his companion. They simply stood there, watching each other intently, with nothing but their breathing to accompany them. They would stagger around each other for a discomfited moment before Draco could take the tension between them no longer. _

_ In his mind's eye, they lunged at each other, fists acting on their own, acting upon their usual habits. Harry hit him square in the jaw before he could anticipate it. But he managed to shove Harry back with a knock to his chin, throwing his head back against stone bathroom tile. _

_ They pushed and shoved and kicked and pulled until there was nothing left to do but what was unspoken. Hands reached up and tugged at hair and they gripped each other, close and shocking, yet absorbing all at once. Panting, they collided, body and soul, tongues lavishing one another in a great quest for dominance. Robes tore away and they thrust up against each other, thoroughly _needing_ this._

_ Draco moaned, tossing his head back in the ecstacy of it all. Harry fucked him, right there against the cold bathroom floor. _

_ And in Draco's mind, that's how it went._

~.~.~.~.~

_ Things were fuzzier. Less consistent, less comprehensive from there on in. Draco had been vaguely pleased at his father's choice in a bride for him. Her hair, ebony- black as pitch- like Potter's. Her eyes- hazel, but he could easily daydream them up to be the very shade of Potter's. There was little curve to her hips or swell to her breasts, giving her a boyish figure he could easily appreciate as Potter's. And when he was forced to make love to her, he thought of Potter. _

_ He'd married the Weasley wench. Draco had spent that whole miserable day drowning himself in his sorrows, drink after drink after drink until he was numbed. Until he was no longer humiliated enough to hold his tears at bay. And Astoria let him._

_ Ten years later, he defied everything he ever was and approached Potter, wives be damned. He would no longer hate himself, take pity on himself. He would have Potter. One way or another. And this time, he wouldn't take no for an answer._

~.~.~.~.~

Draco jolted upright at the very epiphany, his head reeling with recent dreams. Astoria let out a small moan from beside him, seeking him out in the dark when she no longer felt him at her side.

He ignored her, comprehending now what he had to do. Take Potter. Now while he still had the chance. Slipping quietly, yet stealthily out of bed, he escaped to his study, where he paced, plotting out the beginnings of a seduction Potter could never refuse.

Because he knew, now and as always, Potter would bring him his final liberation.

**A/N: Kay just cuz i know i've confused a few readers and i understand the ending's complicated but here's a little clue: it's cyclical. It's up to interpretation whether he's dreamed the whole thing up and decided that this is an excellent idea or whether we've entered an alternate reality or whatnot... really it's whatever you see of it. but um... I like to think because he's still married to Astoria at the end, whatever happened in the rest of the story might not suffer a repeat the second time around.**


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